A Soft Place To Fall
by Heliotropic
Summary: It started with a headache. It ended in the most unlikely of friendships. HichigoIchigo if you squint.


* * *

A Soft Place To Fall

* * *

This sucked. 

Ichigo groaned softly, aware that Ruika was watching him with concern. His skull felt as though it was being split open from the inside, and all the migraine medicine he had taken had only served to slow his reactions and make his thoughts all fuzzy and slow.

Most of the group was just lounging around on the roof, unaware of Ichigo and Ruika off to one side. He glanced at the girl, and sighed.

_We need rest, oh King of mine. Something's off…_

_Quiet, you. Ruika can sense it when you talk to me._

"I'm going home." He told her quietly. She nodded, obviously pleased that he wasn't going to tough it out. He snorted softly as he made his way through the halls and out the door. There was no way in hell he'd be able to concentrate on a frickin' hollow, let alone carry a conversation farther than 'go away'.

A left at the walk light, two blocks straight, and he was home. In through the front door, up the stairs, through his door, and he was flopping down on his bed. Home in record time, no father within hearing distance, and Ichigo was in enough pain that he couldn't even enjoy it. Soft laughter rang through his head at the thought, sending shooting pains through his temples.

This really sucked.

Finally, he managed to persuade his body that it would be a good idea to get up and get some Advil. He stood, had enough time to think dizzily this was a bad idea, and then slumped unconscious to the floor.

* * *

His head was pounding, his whole body ached, and his skin felt hot and tight. Groaning softly, Ichigo opened his eyes slowly, and watched lightning arc over dark purple storm clouds. He sighed, closed his eyes again, and nuzzled deeper into his warm pillow. 

Wait.

Lightning? Clouds? He wasn't outside. And the last he remembered, he had been on the floor, no pillow in sight. His eyes snapped open. Directly above him, a pale face and yellow eyes met his gaze.

The Hollow giggled.

Oh. Shit. This was not good. Ichigo tried to get up, to get away from his counterpart, but found himself barely strong enough to lift himself up on one elbow. The hollow narrowed his eyes, and pushed the other over with one finger. Ichigo swore, flailed, and collapsed back into the Hollow's lap.

His counterpart stared down at him. "You're weak." His voice was calm and matter-of-fact, not at all insulting, but Ichigo scowled and retorted automatically.

"What?! I'm _not_-"

"You are. At least, you are right now. Our body is unconscious, and there's something wrong with it. I can't find the old man, and even here, you're not even able to stand up straight. What the hell's going on, oh King-of-mine?"

Ichigo blinked. "Ah…I don't know. I just had a bit of a headache, that's all."

The Hollow frowned. That wasn't good. He had figured that, as the person who spent the most time in control of the body they shared; the King would know what to do. Then, much to Ichigo's apprehension, the Hollow grinned. Uninterrupted time with the King? Oh, this was going to be fun!

He glanced down at his partner. Maybe not. The boy had made no effort to get away from him, and was actually snuggling down in his lap. His eyes were glazed over, and when the Hollow touched his face to get Ichigo's attention, he seemed to have a very hard time focusing.

Clearly, fighting his King right now would be no fun.

Ichigo's chest felt like something heavy was pressing down on it, baking him gasp and struggle for breath. He was even hotter now, the cloth of his shinigami robes rough and painful against his hypersensitive skin. The outline of his counterpart was blurry, and his though were sluggish and strangely slow. He blinked, trying to restore his vision, and found he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes again.

He felt his pillow-the other's lap- shift, and a hand shook him hard. Struggling against the tide of unconscious that threatened him, he opened his eyes a crack. One glimpse of his other self, then the effort was too much and the tide crashed down on him.

The last thing he heard was the suddenly concerned voice of the Hollow.

* * *

Later, he would find out that his father had found him, unconscious in his bedroom, and had been unable to help him. That the man had rushed him to the Uruhara Shoten, where his friends and family had gathered (including various shinigami) to watch over him. That he had run a fever high enough to kill him for almost a week. 

That no one, not even Uohana, had been able to figure out what was wrong.

All he remembered of that time was in segments, strange stand-alone memories no more than a minute in length. But he did remember what the Hollow-his enemy, his hated alter ego- had done. The strange, pale reflection of his soul had nursed him, taken care of him, and helped him fight the nameless affliction. The Hollow could have taken his body then, simply left his King to die in some forgotten corner of their mindscape.

Instead, he had saved Ichigo's life.

When the fever broke, he had woken in his mindscape to find his counterpart smoothing his orange hair back from his sweaty forehead, murmuring soft, comforting words and soothing the pain. The actions had been so tender and gentle that Ichigo had, for almost an hour, made no move to signal he was aware simply because it felt so good.

And the Hollow must have known what he was doing, since they shared a soul. But the other had let him pretend until he had gathered strength enough to face the world again. Then the other had smirked down at him and given him a purely mental shove-and he had suddenly been looking at the ceiling in a backroom of Uruhara Shoten.

Not even a day later, the Hollow was sending him information, telling him what had been wrong. An imbalance in his power, the other had said. Something about the constant use of his reikei had made him vulnerable to some kind of spiritual virus thing.

And now, almost three weeks after the last symptoms had cleared up, he was back within his mindscape.

He needed to say thanks.

* * *

The Hollow had no name. 

He knew that the King's friends had named him Shirosaki Hichigo, but that wasn't his name, that was just what _they_ called him, and they were unimportant. The only one he would ever let name him was the King, and that would probably never happen. Which was sad, because he really wanted a name.

Well, no use moping. Now that the King was better, he had best start figuring out how to prevent the whole fever ordeal from happening again. He had never seen the King so…helpless. He had seen Ichigo at his weakest, his most injured, and the other was too stubborn to give in to _anything_. But the strange sickness had not only laid him low, it had taken the fight out of him.

His King had been completely consumed by nightmares, terror and despair even at his most coherent. The other had clung to him, the only thing that seemed to make the tide of dark thoughts and emotions abate. His King, completely dependant on one he considered an enemy.

It was both ironic and slightly frightening, being so needed by his counterpart.

He raised his head, white hair blown back by a faint wind. The King was coming. He wondered what the other wanted. To fight? No, since the sickness, he had felt no aggression, no malice from the other. The nameless Hollow smirked. Maybe the King just wanted to talk. Yeah, right.

Just as he had expected, there was Ichigo, striding towards him, confident and steady, scowl firmly in place.

"Oi. Hollow." Well, that was hardly polite, now was it? Really, his King should learn some manners.

"Yes, oh King of mine? However can this humble horse serve you?" The Hollow smirked as his King's scowl deepened. Then, to his surprise, the other flushed slightly and sat down beside him, legs hanging off the side of one of the sideways buildings.

"Ah…I just…" The orange-haired boy trailed off. The Hollow regarded him curiously. What had the normally self-assured boy so off balance?

"Thanks." The other's voice was abrupt, and rather shy sounding behind his usual bravado. "For taking care of me, I mean. It's…well, thanks."

The Hollow regarded Ichigo with surprise and a spark of hope that he ruthlessly squashed. "Well, this is unexpected. You are most welcome, my King."

For a long, uncomfortable moment, they sat in silence. This was the first time they had spent any time together in which both were conscious and they weren't fighting. Finally, Ichigo got tired of the tense air, and decided to do something about it. He glanced downward. The next sideways building was about thirty feet away.

The Hollow, who had been concentrating on trying to find something to say that wasn't insulting, squawked in surprise as the other pushed him off his perch. He went tumbling downwards, only barely managing to catch himself and flip before he hit the building. He looked up, to meet the eyes of his grinning counterpart. His own eyes narrowed.

Oh, the King was going _down_.

For almost three hours, the two played a sort of tap in Ichigo's sideways mind, catching each other and then throwing the other off the side of the nearest building. Bruised, exhausted, and content, they slumped against each other and shared a grin.

As Ichigo faded from the sideways world, he couldn't help but think that his life was a bit easier. Now he had a soft place to fall, and even if the Hollow was exasperating, annoying, and an all-around bastard, Ichigo knew that the other would always help him, however reluctantly. But there was something he was forgetting, something he needed to know…

Just as he was almost gone, he remembered, and he asked his Hollow, "What's your name?"

The other smiled, a genuine expression. "Pick one for me, my King…"

As he opened his eyes to see his bedroom ceiling, the other's voice whispered through his head.

_Who do you want me to be? No matter what, you're mine and I'm yours… We're stuck with each other._

Hmmm. Ichigo would have to think up a suitable name. The next time he saw the Hollow, he would have one. The Hollow may have once been a monster, but somehow Ichigo could no longer think of the other as a threat. How…strange.

* * *

Ichigo stormed into his room in a truly foul mood. The day had been _horrible_. Why oh why couldn't the damned hollows wait until after school to attack? He had now served three consecutive detentions for being late and skipping class. And the teacher who watched the detentions was the wizened old math teacher, who was clearly out to get him. Hell, even with hunting monsters, saving the world, and just being a general hero-type idiot, he still handed in every single assignment on time and he always caught up on the work he missed by the next class! Couldn't the old bastard give him a break? 

Granted, the old man didn't know about the whole hollow thing, but he wasn't going to let that ruin a perfectly good bad mood, damn it!

Soft laughter rang through his head.

_Oh, King, you do realize you're contradicting yourself?_

_Oh, shut up. I'm allowed to be in a bad mood._

_Even though you have only that very flimsy excuse for it? It isn't the old man's fault you had to fight. _

_Argh! Stop poking logic-shaped holes in my bad mood, you prick! _

For a moment, both of them were silent, mulling over Ichigo's exclamation. Then, slowly, they both began to laugh. Ichigo shook his head. So much for his 'perfectly good bad mood'. Oh, well.

Talking with his Hollow was more fun than being angry, anyways. Speaking of whom…

_I've decided on your name._

_Oh? And what is it, may I ask?_

_You may._

Exasperation and annoyance echoed through his mind, and Ichigo grinned. The other was fun to rile up.

_What's my name?_

_Hiei. Because you're stubborn as a damn rock, so you might as well be named after one._

_Why, thank you._

Although Hiei's voice was dry and sarcastic, he could also feel the emotions running behind the words. Pleasure and understanding of the backhanded complement, as well as a kind of fond amusement.

He smiled to himself. Maybe, once upon a time, the horse to his king had been just another monster. But before a Hollow was a Hollow, it was human and in pain. His Hollow, his Hiei, wasn't in pain anymore. And he didn't feel like the Hollows Ichigo killed daily.

He felt like a whole other soul, living inside Ichigo's mind. A friend. An ally. Someone to talk to. Someone he could trust completely. A presence in the back of his mind that understood the way his mind worked.

Someone to catch him when he fell.

* * *

Well, there it is. A one-shot of Ichigo and Hollow!Ichigo. It was suppose to be the beginning of another chapter of Triad. Instead, I made this disjointed mess of a story and I'm posting it anyways. 

If only because if I suffer, so should everyone else. So there, nyah. (Because I'm not running on three hours sleep, not me…) -_Heliotropic_


End file.
